


When You Lose Something You Can't Replace

by humancorn



Series: hannah's vent fics [3]
Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: A WILD RIDE, Akako helps her deal, AoKako, Aoko is at her limit, Couch Cuddles, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Stress, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Warm Blankets and Girlfriend Cuddles, coping with the death of a parent, forgive the shitty ending, ignoring your feelings, maladaptive coping mechanisms, neither aoko nor akako die, this is not a bury your gays story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn
Summary: Nakamouri Aoko + coping with the death of a loved one





	

Aoko stopped, hands clenched into fists, puffing out breath after labored breath, trying to catch her lungs up to speed with her heart. Everything in her was telling her to run more – to just keep running until she caught him and never pause for even a second because that’s when he’d be able to get away, because that’s what Dad would have  _ wanted _ . But her squad was called off thirty minutes back and she knew they’d be looking for her by now. The night swirled around her as she made her way back to the station, with wind blowing tufts of snow across the pavement and making the tree branches dance under the streetlights. An abandoned newspaper crossed her path a few feet ahead as the sound of the trickling river, worn slow with cold, wormed it’s way into her mind.

It was…comforting. The river, the sound of the water. Something foreign, something borrowed. A change of pace since her father had…passed. She wasn’t speaking, but it still tasted bitter on her tongue. Like she’d only eaten cotton balls accompanied with dark roasted coffee for dinner every night of her life. The aches this caused, in her shoulders, her back, her bones, were entirely new feelings that she hadn’t let herself mull over yet. 

Akako said it was stress-related, from trying to live up to her father’s expectations, and the shadow he left behind him. She said that was bullshit, but part of her knew it was probably true. Why else would she be chasing phantoms until the wee hours of the morning? The elusive Kaitou Kid had outlived her father, leaving her in the wake of losses both personal and professional. Pathetic. Living off of the legacy of her father, and yet not able to leave it alone, wanting to give him closure – or give herself closure, she wasn’t sure which it was anymore.

Aoko rounded the corner and the station came into view, the double doors still, all of the cars parked and off for the night aside from the one night-cruiser that still seemed to be out and about. As she crossed the threshold, she tried to shake the dampness from her clothes, her bones. All of the greens and blues that flooded over the walls in the station were consuming her; she could feel them on her back, digging and digging and digging into her skin, whispering, ghosting it’s cold breath over her spine. Smaller and smaller, she was shrinking, but slowly, so slowly. Her lungs were shrinking faster than her body, they were crushed, crushing, dying cells. A breath in, five minutes passed; a breath out, an eternity. Eyelids heavy, they closed, they brought death and she could feel everything leave her body, collapsing.  

“Nakamouri-san, where have you been?” The inspector. Her eyes shot open. An excuse, a reason. Quickly explained away, and she talked of being dizzy. 

On her way home, she knew. She had died and come back to life, she knew.

-=-=-

Aoko only felt the heavy, chilling rain on her skin when she was already ¾ of the way back to her apartment. Drops upon drops upon drops, her skin was like the river from before: flowing, foreign. Nothing about it was familiar. Her jacket was missing, her umbrella nowhere to be found. Just pinpricked skin, paler white than she’d seen before.  _ It must be because I died,  _ she thought. And she remembered _ , that’s right, that happened, I died. _

There was a sudden warmth on her shoulder, after what seemed to her like seconds spent in the pouring rain. It was dry then, as a rough-ish blanket was hastily woven over her shoulders and used to tug her forward. The hand holding the makeshift knot of the two sides of the blanket coming together was slender, with painted nails – bullseye red, a hint of silver. Akako. They said nothing on the walk home, but Aoko found herself calm at the brush of Akako’s fingers against her own.

Their own threshold was different from that of the station. Preceded by a small flower garden, the red door seemed to stand apart from the white siding on the house. Blood red, bullseye red, like Akako’s nails. Akako pulled the knot harshly to get her under the porch roof, out of the rain, out of the cold, cold rain. The keys fumbled in her hands before she managed to jam the right key in the keyhole and before Aoko knew what was going on, she was gently guided to the couch and made to sit down. Akako bent to meet Aoko’s eyes, catching her chin when she tried to avoid them.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” And off she went, disappearing into the hallway.Aoko leaned back, the warm plush of the couch-back engulfing her, consuming. The room seemed a lot smaller without Akako. Small walls, small doorways, small couch, small Aoko. Her hands were trembling, she could see her fingers shaking, shaking all the way up her spine until it found it’s way to her jaw, chattering her teeth together. Akako appeared in the doorway again, more blankets, a towel, and a robe in hand. She frowns when she sees her, and Aoko can feel her stomach twist like she’d been stabbed.

“Honestly, Aoko,” Akako pulled the damp blanket off of her, and ruffled her hair with the towel before softly pressing her lips to Aoko’s forehead, “You can call me when you need help; you know that.” She peeled her uniform off, layer after layer and helped her into the robe. Red fabric, softer than her uniform, softer than anything she’d ever felt before, though she knew that couldn’t be true. She could feel Akako wrap her arms around her waist and pull her to the couch, and she accepted it, resting her head on Akako’s chest while the other girl piled blankets on top of them. After a few minutes, Aoko tilted her head up.

“I’m sorry,” She started, and Akako just kissed the top of her head and said that she understood. She always understood; she always knew. Aoko closed her eyes and listened to Akako's heartbeat, smiling as she felt tears start to well at the backs of her eyes. 


End file.
